Sinister
by A Violet Rose
Summary: Loki/Avengers/OC What if the ending of the Avengers had been different? What if Thor had not taken Loki back to Asgard…what if he chose to leave Loki on earth? This story explores the possibilities of Loki's time in Midgard and his quest for revenge.
1. Chapter 1

_"**There's a time and place for everything, and I believe it's called 'fan fiction'." –Joss Whedon**_

**Sinister**

It was dark and silent. The cell was small, padded, and completely secured; underground, in fact. The guards came and went in two-hour shifts; they could not afford to become tired or lose focus while guarding somebody as dangerous and clever as the god of mischief. Loki was an enemy of the state and the planet, and would not be permitted any sort of chance to escape and threaten the safety of humanity ever again, so they said.

The cell was sound-proofed. Thanks to Thor's disclosure to Nick Fury that Loki could quite easily influence anybody, especially mortals, to do his bidding with simply words or thoughts, his chamber had been lined with bullet, fire, and sound proof glass, reinforced by many other metals that, for some reason, Fury believed would hinder his abilities. The guards were there as a deterrent, holding powerful energy guns designed by Stark, but Loki knew, deep down, that every second they stood outside of his door, they were shaking in their scuffed leather boots. Their fingers were tightly clenched around the weapons, but their light nerves would hinder any chance for them to actually act hostile. They were too afraid.

Fury knew nothing. He believed that Loki could be incarcerated here like a beast to a cage. Escape would not be easy, but it was not impossible. He just needed an opening, an opportunity. He had had quite a few chances to break out in the past few months of his detainment, but the time did not seem right. He needed a real plan to not only exact retribution upon the Avengers, but to take the earth and attain redemption. His name and original plan had been tainted. Loki did not need a fresh start; he just needed a fresh idea. Many thoughts and strategies had crossed his mind, but nothing good enough. He could not afford to be sloppy like last time, relying on the army of the Chitauri to win a war for him.

The Chitauri….they would surely come after him for his failure to deliver the Tesseract. They promised wrath, but would they follow through? The Avengers had defeated them once and, due to the fact that Loki had remained on Earth, he thought himself at least temporarily safe while his brother and the five others lived and breathed. They would protect the earth which, in turn, meant protection of him, even if they did not realize it. He could not rely on them for safety, but he could at least use them for this purpose until he came up with a concrete plan. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed an ally.

He had not fared well with an army. Although they were strong, the Chitauri were anything but inconspicuous and their mutated, enormous, and unattractive exterior tended to draw a bit of attention and aggression. It had been easy to gather allies when he had his staff. A simple tap on the heart would immediately overpower a human's mind, turning the victim to jelly in his fingers; however, the lack of the staff was an issue. Fury and the Avengers had taken it to hide in a "secure area." They would not destroy it, the staff was too powerful and enigmatic for them to simply snap and bury. They could not have snapped it even if they had wanted to. No, what he needed was someone who _agreed_ with him and his opinions.

Now _that_ would be a challenge. Like escape, however, it was not impossible. Humans killed one another every day for shallow and foolish reasons. Surely he could find some with similar tastes and minds. Mortals were not the smartest creatures but they were also not the most unintelligent. He had met worse.

A few other "criminals" and "high-risk enemies" resided in nearby cells. For some reason, they had been considered as dangerous as he…as worthy as he. That was a quip. Being in an extremely secured and contained prison _did_ have its benefits, though. The guards may have been guarded against Loki, but others in the prison were not. He read them like open books every night, perusing their minds until his eyelids grew heavy. The other inmates, although there were not many, had interesting thoughts. None of them were quite as quick or imaginative as Loki, but he had taken advantage of some of their contemplations and experiences, storing them away in his own mind for future reference.

These other prisoners, however, were human. They were weak. With each passing day, their physical and mental stamina deteriorated. They would not be suited for a long-term investment of time that required sharp minds and impeccable physical ability. There had been flickers in their hearts, but they had faded quickly, as if being blown out with a single breath. They proved to be nothing more than frail candles whose flames were not able to burn brightly and consistently. This was why humans were so difficult to respect; they had no drive, nothing that truly kept them going.

Loki had ambition and a grudge. That would sustain him for all of his years. He sat back against the cold, metal wall of his cell, running his long fingers through his raven hair. Then, something caught his attention.

A new soul had entered the facility. This one appeared different, stronger and more vibrant than the rest. Give it time, he thought, this one will diminish like all the others. This aura, though, burned bright, like a great fire, a wildfire. Loki needed a wildfire. He needed somebody who could withstand pain and wrath, a warrior with both Asgardian rage and human blood.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander into the cell of the newcomer. It was a sort of astral projection, in layman's terms. His consciousness hovered outside of the door for a quick moment and then melted through the metal, entering the room stealthily.

He saw a woman standing in the center of the room. She had a somewhat small frame, no taller than six feet, but her stance was strong. She was wearing baggy black pants and a loose shirt, beads of sweat visibly trickling down her collarbones and cut arms. Wavy, dark hair, shining like an amethyst when the light shone upon it, brushed her shoulders and her bright, teal eyes were fixed angrily upon the door that slammed shut in front of her.

Her lips were tight, tense, and silent, but Loki could hear the words she longed to utter: "You will all die for this."

Now there was a heart.

A week passed and Loki continued to watch her. She was a curious girl. She could not have been older than twenty-five in human years, but her eyes revealed her to be a hardened and older soul. Their bright, emerald luster could not hide years of anguish and resentment. There was anger there; anger that could be manipulated and used to his advantage. He expected her aura to grow weak as time passed, but it only seemed to grow stronger. Her determination seemed to burn through the walls like a vapor, inciting a call to action on Loki's part. She would be his ally; he knew it.

On the tenth night of her imprisonment, Loki decided that it was time to contact her. He stood next to the cold, metal wall and placed the palm of his hand firmly against it. He closed his eyes and focused deeply upon the touch. A ghostly imprint of Loki erupted from his body and materialized in front of him, the light eyes, spectral eyes meeting his own. At once, the essence sunk through the wall and traveled into her cell.

The spirit moved in silence, so she did not see him until he moved closer to her. She lay on her back across the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was night time, she supposed, since she felt exhausted. Not that she could tell, though, since the hell-hole was underground. Loki's spirit form grabbed her attention, but she did not react with the initial shock she felt; instead, she simply looked at him. Her eyes traveled from top to bottom.

"Well, you must be a dream." She said simply, her voice surprisingly soft.

"I am no such thing. I'm as real as you," he replied. When her eyes narrowed doubtfully, he added, "I am just in a different room."

She scoffed, "Well I'm definitely dreaming then," she laughed, sitting up and staring directly into his eyes, "because you're a sight for sore eyes in my cell, claiming you're somewhere else. Not many people can be in two places at once."

"Do you know who I am?" Loki asked, his voice with a sharp edge. She clearly did not recognize him; he was in plain mortal clothes. Prison clothes. Rags. The girl stood up and moved closer to him until she was close enough to touch him. Her gaze was sharp and piercing. A knowing look crossed her face.

"Ah, you're Loki, aren't you? You're the brother of Thor, one of the beloved Avengers."

"Indeed. And I have a proposition for you."

She laughed again. "A proposition, huh? Somebody's right to the point. Well, I'm not sure really how much I can do for you in this cell. I'm not giving you a striptease if that's what you're after. Somehow, though, I doubt that's what you want. And even if it was, what's in it for me?" She replied, her voice sarcastic. Loki ignored her mockery.

"Well wouldn't you like to be somewhere else rather than a cell?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Go on."

"Aid me. Help me find my staff and take vengeance upon my brother and his _Avengers_." He commanded.

Her expression was blank and difficult to read, even for him.

"Nah, I'm all set." She answered. She turned her back to him and returned to the bed, lying back down with her hands behind her head. He faltered, his initial confidence stumbling.

"Excuse me?" he snapped, anger burning through him.

"Look, I already tangled with your brother and his buddies once. I don't need any more problems, and if I team up with _you_," she pointed at his spectral form, "Mr. Public Enemy of the Earth, number One, problems are exactly what I'm going to have. I just want to be left alone. So, once again, I'm all set. I'll just rot away in here; I have nothing better to do." She replied, turning her head back to the ceiling. He moved quickly, like a rush of water, to her bedside, placing his arms on the frames on either side of her, leaning down close to her menacingly.

"You _will_ help me." He snarled. She simply glared back at him.

"I'm not afraid of you like everyone else is. Do whatever you want to me, my life might as well be over anyway. I have nothing you can take from me, nothing for you to threaten me with." She said in a low, biting voice.

"My brother and his friends _will _pay for locking me away here. My mission is retribution and redemption. If you have nothing to lose, if you have no real purpose, why not join me? Redeem _yourself_ while helping me conquer them." Loki whispered, his breath hot on her face. Her eyes flashed, he could see submission and stubbornness battling inside them. About a minute passed as she considered his words.

"Touché."

"So you will join me, then?" he asked, straightening himself up beside her bed. She stood quickly, meeting his level and gaze with a smirk.

"I guess so. Like you said, I've nothing to lose. The only thing I have left is my sanity and that's on its way out the window." She said roughly. Loki watched as she fidgeted with her baggy shirt, revealing a narrow waist and visible hip bones below a long, horizontal scar that seemed to travel beneath her belt.

"So, Mayhem, how are we getting out of here?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What did you call me?" he looked at her strangely.

"Oh," she barked a laugh, "I called you Mayhem. I read the stories as a kid, you know, all the Norse legends? You've done some crazy shit, if the myths are true." He paused.

"Let's just focus on getting out of here for the moment." He murmured, taking her arm. She started at his sudden grasp but soon relaxed when she felt his fingers loosen their rough grip.

"What are we doing?" she asked as he pulled her toward the wall. Loki turned and looked at her over his shoulder.

"Hold your breath and close your eyes."

She did as she was told.

An odd sensation flooded through her veins. It was like being hit by a massive wave but without the fear of drowning or being pulled under. It seemed to suspend and activate all of her senses at random and it baffled her immensely. Her eyes were closed and, yet, she could see some kind of smoky essence in front of her face. Shivers ran up her spine even though she was being overtaken by a heat wave. It was the longest and yet shortest ten seconds of her life. When she finally felt the sensations cease, she bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. When she felt Loki's grip leave her arm, she opened her eyes, slightly stunned and feeling nauseous from the rush of passing through a solid wall.

Slowly lifting her head in a daze, her eyes focused on him, standing tall and straight before her. He stared down at her.

"You are quite skilled in combat, I assume?"

"You know I am. How do you think I got in here? Why even bother asking?" she panted.

He smirked, "I wanted to be sure you had confidence. You'll need it."

The nausea subsided and she rolled her shoulders up to stand straight.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, running a hand through her dark, violet-tinted hair. Loki looked over at her.

"If you know anything about me, you know that I have abilities and intellect that far surpass that of humans and my brother," he said grudgingly when he thought of Thor, "the guards will, within about two minutes, realize that you are gone. They will undoubtedly check every cell and chamber. I will conceal you and I. Once they enter, we attack and take their weapons. I can, temporarily, grant you strength that is far greater than what you currently possess. I have already projected enough times around the facility to know the way in and out. You will follow me, concealed, and we make our escape. Then-" he explained, but she cut him off.

"If you've had this plan all this time, why are you just escaping _now?_ And why with _me?"_ she asked suspiciously. He was angered by her interruption, but, uncharacteristically, let it slide.

"I knew I could not exact my plans alone. It did not work for me in the past, nor did an army. I've found middle ground in selecting one or a few allies rather than a militia of Chitauri." He explained.

"And I'm your ally?" she repeated slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes," Loki said impatiently, "now, after we get out of here-"

"Where exactly is here?" she interrupted again, the corners of her mouth turning up into a sly smile. She was fully aware that she was getting under his skin and she enjoyed it. She would pay for it later, he told himself.

"We're in the state of Nevada, underground, in the desert. Do you have a residence anywhere near here?" He asked. She raised her eyebrows.

"I move around a bit. But I do have a place in Carson City, which, ironically, is here in Nevada." She replied. Loki nodded.

"Then we will go there for the time being. Does S.H.I.E.L.D. know about this place?" he asked.

"I-my place?" a look of surprise crossed her face, "they know about the others, but not this one. I haven't been here in a very long time. Long before I became an object of interest to them, so it's clear. You…want to go there?" she asked, a strange feeling of anxiety erupting within her chest.

"I said that, did I not?" he barked irritably.

"Just making sure." She muttered, feeling small.

"Any other _questions_?" he sneered at her suddenly shy posture. She shook her head.

"Good," Loki said, putting his hand on her shoulder, "because we have company."


	2. Chapter 2

Within seconds, the large, metal doors opened wide and three guards entered, guns drawn. They stopped when they entered the room, for they could not see the invisible prisoners.

"What the fuck, where are they?" one of the guards asked, turning in confusion to face the others. Loki watched as she crept up behind him. Her hands moving as fast as lightning, she snapped his neck and slipped out from the path of his falling body. She quickly slid down and around the other guard's legs, sweeping them out from under him with a swift movement. The third guard began shooting around wildly as his companions were being taken out by an unseen force. Loki rushed forward and grabbed him around his neck, lifting him off the floor and slamming him against the wall roughly. The girl grabbed the guns off the floor next to him and moved next to Loki.

"Shall we?" she asked, offering him one.

"We shall." He replied, before taking the gun and firing it right under the guard's chin.

"So, we're just going to shoot our way out of here, yeah?" she asked. As they exited the room, a siren began to sound.

"That is the plan." Loki answered, looking up and down the hallway. She watched as his plain clothes became enveloped by a golden light that moved up his body, revealing long, Asgardian robes that hugged his body tightly. She looked down at her own baggy, prison clothes in disdain.

"Your outfit kicks the shit out of mine." She remarked as they moved quickly through the facility. He looked over at her and was about to reply with a sarcastic comment before he saw two guards over her shoulder, raising their guns to fire at them. With a wave of his hand, their guns disintegrated in their hands, turning to dust in seconds. She turned to shoot at them, knocking both off their feet with the blasts of energy.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, "let's get the hell out of here."

They ran around corners, up and down stairs, creeping past or attacking multiple guards until they made it to a large platform that appeared to lift up to the surface. They were home free. A large door opened across the platform and five guards appeared.

"HANDS UP!" One of them cried, beginning to move towards them. Loki moved to fire at them, but his companion was quicker. She lunged forward with her arms spread like wings, and clapped them together, enclosing the air between them. Simultaneously, the doors slammed shut, trapping four guards behind them and crushing the guard who had advanced upon them. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, he didn't give her the ability to do that.

"How did you-"

"I'll explain later, let's go!" she cried, grabbing his hand and leading him onto the platform.

As they stood on it, poised for more hostiles, the platform moved up out of the darkness and into wide, open space. The desert sun was rising. Even though it appeared to be dawn and the sun was not quite shining as brightly as it would in a few hours, it was still brighter than Loki was used to and stung his eyes. After being kept in a relatively dark space for months, natural light was an adjustment. There was one large truck and seven motorcycles sitting without riders around the platform.

"I personally think the truck will slow us down, but take your pick, _your Highness._" The girl said, emphasizing the last two words dramatically. Loki whipped around to her and grabbed her around her narrow neck viciously.

"You will show me respect," he snarled, tightening his grasp. "You are-"

"Your partner," she choked, "You need me."

He was tempted to end her life then and there. His temper was fired up by her lack of respect and stubbornness; however, if he were to kill her, then all that time waiting for a suitable ally would be in vain. In addition, he was positively intrigued by the stunt she pulled below ground, closing two enormous steel doors from a hundred yards away. He needed to discover what this girl was; for she could not be entirely human.

He released his grip and she collapsed to her knees, spluttering. She looked up at him from the ground, her bright eyes shining with tears from being nearly choked to death.

"Well," she coughed, "that's settled. Let's skip the bullshit and get out of here." She moved to a nearby motorcycle and crouched down, inspecting the wiring. Loki looked around them, making sure that they would not be followed. Surely Fury and the rest of SHIELD would be alerted of their escape and reinforces would be sent after them, but they would be long gone before then.

"Hop on." He heard her say. He turned to see her mounted on the motorcycle. She revved the engine as he moved toward her. When he got to her, however, he stopped, looking at the seat.

"You're going to have to sit behind me and hold on," she said plainly, as if lecturing a child. "You may be an Asgardian god, but I doubt you know how to drive a Kawasaki. Get on, put your arms around my waist, and we'll leave this shit behind." He didn't usually tolerate being told what to do, especially by a mortal, but he needed somebody who knew this world better than he; he believed that was one of the factors in his previous defeat. She challenged him; he didn't like it, but something made him respect it. He climbed on the back of the motorcycle, wrapping his hands around her slim body.

"Here we go." She muttered, pushing off the ground with her boot.

And off they went.


	3. Chapter 3

For what seemed like hours, they drove in silence through the steamy, desolate desert. They passed mountains and narrow rivers. The sun blazed down upon them and it seemed as though there was no end in sight. Then, there was a break in the mountain chain, and civilization appeared. The area they drove through was quaint and residential; there was a long main street with small stores and restaurants. It was the epitome of serenity. It was a place to settle.

They slowed down until they reached the end of a cul-de-sac. There was a staircase that led to a tall and thin modern-looking house. It was boxy and painted a simple, ashen hue. The roof was flat; a wide balcony hung about ten feet beneath, overlooking the street. It had large, streamlined windows that appeared to slide open and shut, with velvety, wine-red curtains hanging modestly at their sides. It was unlike the other houses that resided on the street and, yet, it did not look out of place.

"We're here." She said, turning off the engine. She activated the kickstand on the bike and swung her leg over. She walked over to the bottom of the staircase and crouched down. There was a pile of rocks near the stairs, one of which was apparently not a rock, but a tiny, rock-shaped box. She picked it up and flipped it over, revealing a numbered-key pad. She punched in six digits and the box beeped and swung open.

"Here you are." She muttered to herself, taking out a small key. Leaving the bike at the bottom of the stairs, they ascended, making their way to the mahogany door at the top of the steps.

"You know," Loki began, watching as she fiddled with the key in the lock, "You never told me your name."

"You never asked." she replied simply. After a pause, she added, "It's Rowena, at least, so I've been told."

She opened the door and, with a small smile, gestured for him to enter. Loki walked past her and into a large, open room. There were three floors, but only one ceiling that was much higher than they. There was a single, great staircase that stood sturdily in the rear of the vast living room. The three floors were laid out so that they overlooked the living room, all at the same angle. There was also a gorgeous, gothic style chandelier that hung elegantly over the room.

The walls were painted a creamy, eggshell white and there were various photographs hanging on them, protected by glass and geometric black frames. There was a wide, blood-red couch in the center of the room, directly in front of a huge high-definition flat-screen television. To their right was an open kitchen area with suspended, sleek black cabinets that matched the cupboards below and a tall, stainless steel refrigerator.

Rowena flicked a switch strode over to the windows and pulled the red curtains shut. A hanging chandelier bathed the house in a dim, romantic light. Loki followed her further into the room as she made her way to the kitchen counter.

"So you've been told?" he asked, stopping at the counter top, "You are not positive?"

"Hmm?" Rowena turned, clearly lost in thought, "what?"

"You said you've been told Rowena is your name." he answered. Something about the way he said her name, _Rowena_, sent a chill up her spine. It was not, however, a bad chill in the least bit. Her stomach seemed to turn at his question.

"Well," she said, leaning over on her elbows and resting her chin in her hands, "I don't exactly have parents. I mean, I _do_ have parents, but I don't know who they are or where they are. I was found on the hood of a car in a movie theatre parking lot when I was a baby. The only proof that I have of who I am was my baby blanket. The name _Rowena_ was etched on it."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Loki watched as pain and hurt entered her eyes. She shook her head, faking a quiet laugh.

"But that's all in the past and"

"There must be more to it than _that_." He interrupted, curious to discover more. She curled a piece of violet hair behind her ear nervously.

"I was in and out of foster homes until I was seventeen. Then I went out on my own. It's easier to be alone. Nobody to be a 'bad influence' on." She remarked using air quotes with her thin fingers.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I wasn't considered a good kid, I guess. People didn't like being around me." She replied, looking into his eyes and frowning.

"I find you amusing," he said, to which she furrowed her brows and grimaced, "not as in, funny or odd. I think you are…" he searched for the words, "unlike any other mortals I've encountered. You show emotion, yes, but you do not show fear. It is as if you don't believe in it."

Rowena turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"There are a lot of things I don't believe in." she murmured to herself.

"Perhaps you will find something to believe in. Something to give you purpose." Loki said to her back. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye over her shoulder.

"It's late…or early. Whatever, it's been a long day. We should get some rest. We can talk more later on. When my head feels like it's in the right place," Rowena replied, "I have a guest room where you can stay. Follow me." She walked out of the kitchen and brushed past him, her shoulder knocking into him as she passed.

Loki felt a sensation course through his mind and a flood of sounds, images, and feelings clouded his vision.

He heard the crying of a baby, sounding lost and saw a small girl with light brown hair, holding a stuffed dog by its floppy ears, watching a car pull away. He felt abandonment. He saw a teenage girl with red, pixie hair sitting out in a courtyard alone levitating a knife between her hands, He felt pain and despair. He heard smacks and slaps and the sound of screaming. He saw a recognizable Rowena lying in a man's arms, a smile on her face, her eyes closed in harmony. He felt happiness. He heard gunshots and angry yelling, _"How could you?" _and then he heard, saw, and felt nothing.

He opened his eyes and saw Rowena had stopped walking. She turned to him, an odd look on her face.

"Did you…?" she began, not sure what exactly she was asking.

"No. Continue." He said quickly, walking after her.

Yes, they would most certainly talk later.


	4. Chapter 4

Rowena sat on her bed, the soft jersey sheets caressing her skin. They were certainly a step up from the steel bed that had been her sanctuary a week ago. She felt so exhausted from tonight's events and all of the nights before. She never felt truly awake. It was as if a cloud of fatigue hung over her head permanently, as if it was a part of her body just as her legs, spine, and eyes were. Something, however, was starting to wake her up.

When her arm brushed Loki's less than two hours ago, she felt a strange feeling in her body and mind. At first, she felt like she was falling; like when one dreams and suddenly is jolted awake by the feeling of helplessness in a dire situation. Then she felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment and self-hatred…and a need for vengeance. She saw something that confused her: a bright light containing the full spectrum of colors moving away from her at lightning speeds. She heard a _whooshing_ sound and a loud crash. She felt, for a very short span of seconds, triumph, and then an even greater sense of distress and loathing. Then, her eyes jolted open and she saw Loki staring at her incredulously and almost fearfully. What she experienced were not feelings that belonged to her; rather, from what she had heard about the god of mischief (which was mostly rumors and myth that may not have had complete truth), she believed that she had felt _him_ and his mind.

So what had he seen?

Had he seen her being left in a rainy, dark parking lot on April 19th, 1987? Did she see the nine different foster homes she lived in, the nights where she cried herself to sleep because she was so deep in confusion? Did he hear her foster parents yelling at her, pleading with her to be "normal like the other kids?" Did he feel the knife against her skin, begging for penetration, an end to the misery? Did he see her attempt death, only to be thwarted by her curse? Did he see her hurting those around her? Classmates, so-called friends, those who took her in, anybody that showed her love? Did he witness the way she had slammed people against walls, thrown rocks or sharp pencils at peers, launched people out of windows…? Did he feel the lies, the fear, the angst, the insecurity?

No. If he did, he would have been out the door by now, just like everybody else.

He knew nothing.

The house was completely dark but the stars proved to be an effective, almost overpowering, nightlight. Loki stood out on the balcony connected to the guest room, leaning over the side and staring into the desert night sky and the street below. Although he had been on Earth for a couple of months, each night was spent either in a private room, plotting, or in confinement. Not once was he able to simply stand outside and see the sky from the perspective of mortals. For the first time in a very long time he heard silence. It was true what mortals said: silence is the loudest and most deafening sound of all. The moment seemed to be the quintessence of tranquility.

The world outside his balcony was at peace, but the world inside his head couldn't have been further from peace. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Rowena's memories. He had known she was hiding things, but he didn't know the extent to which she concealed her thoughts and feelings. Usually, when he penetrated somebody's mind, it was easy, painless, and deliberate. Rowena's was anything but. He had not tried to read her mind or thoughts; it happened by accident and it was arduous. He was caught off guard by the sudden process of extracting her memories when he had not even initiated it, which made it all the more interesting. Why had it happened? How had it happened?

He figured it must have had something to do with her abilities which, as far as he was concerned, were multifaceted. She showed talent in telekinesis, and a lack of control of telepathy might have been the reason for which he had unwillingly absorbed her memories and feelings. Whatever the reasons were, he intended to discover them.

Something told him that Rowena was not just some simple human like many of the others he had crossed paths with. It seemed that she had an abundance of confusion, frustration, and regret in her life. Not that it changed anything. She _was_ still a mortal, after all, and when earth was his, she would certainly take her place among the other mortals. What threw him off was that she not only seemed to acknowledge it, as she was an intelligent girl, but she seemed to accept it as well and did not intend on stopping it. She frustrated and fascinated him to the highest degree.

He moved silently from the balcony, through his room, and out into the hallway. He looked across the walkway and saw that, although the curtains were nearly fully drawn and her room was dark, there was a small light amidst the darkness. He began to walk towards it, then stopped, then started again, then stopped. He felt foolish, childish, and stupid. It was unfamiliar. Taking a deep breath, he began his advancement again. It was easy to walk lightly on the soft carpet without his boots and cape. He had changed into mortal clothing consisting of a black t-shirt and simple pants, so that nobody in the neighborhood would become suspicious if they saw him. The mortal clothing was; however, quite comfortable. When he reached the door to her room, he paused, listening carefully, but hearing nothing. He crouched down at the spot where her curtains were not closed and peered through the glass.

Rowena was lying back on her bed; her long legs stretched out and crossed at her ankles. One hand was behind her head, the other was lazily twisting and making circles at the wrist joint as a smooth, shiny pebble levitated and orbited around her hand. Her eyes looked heavy and her face blank. She was wearing a black tank top and shorts that did not seem to cover much of anything. He had not really noticed all of the bruises on her body until now. There were a number of black and blue marks on her legs as well as discolorations on her arms that look like she had been grabbed roughly…and more than once. It didn't look like the work of security guards.

Loki quietly stood up, feeling almost something like guilt for watching her at what appeared to be a private moment. So she had prowess in psychokinesis; she even seemed to use it as a form of therapy. She also seemed to have a lot of scars, physical and emotional. She might have been a human, but she and he had a lot in common, it appeared.

Both shunned by their adopted parents, both without true family, both rejected by their peers and friends, both abandoned to fend for themselves, both misunderstood, and both alone.

Maybe she was a mortal, and he a god, but that didn't mean that they had to be completely alone.

Emotions aside, they were "partners" now, allies. What she had said earlier had started to feel true, the more Loki thought of it: _"You need me."_

Well, now, maybe she needed him too.

The next morning, the bright Western sun flooded through the open balcony door, waking Loki up. He rolled over in the large, soft bed, burying his face in the pillow to block out the light. Suddenly, an annoying, high-pitched sound began ringing close to his ear. He jolted up and saw a small box on the table next to the bed, displaying the numbers 6:30 AM and blaring wildly. He didn't understand why it felt the need to announce so loudly and obnoxiously that it was 6:30 AM. He grabbed the box, dragged himself out of the bed, and threw it off the balcony. He walked further onto the terrace and leaned on it, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. The ship of going back to sleep had sailed; the day had begun. He looked out at the neighborhood; it was quiet, lush, and private. He couldn't quite grasp why Rowena had chosen to live here; it didn't seem like her_._ Then again, what _did_ he know about her, besides what he had seen last night?

Loki saw movement below. Between the cherry trees that surrounded the houses in the area, he saw a fast-moving figure weaving in and out of the cars parked along the street. He focused his eyes and saw that it was Rowena, and she appeared to be sprinting away from something, looking almost fearful. He immediately turned and made his way downstairs. He walked in long, quick strides down the stairs and opened the front door. He was startled to see Rowena standing there, panting, and glowing with sweat. She wore a black tank top and black shorts. She had two long, white wires coming out of her ears that appeared to be making loud sounds. She took them out and, catching her breath, said, "Someone's up early."

"Erm, a ringing box woke me up." He replied slowly.

"Oh god, my alarm clock did it, I'm sorry," she said, putting her palm to her forehead, "I forgot to turn it off, I don't usually leave it in the guest room, but I forgot to take it out."

"It's quite alright. I actually…threw it off your veranda."

Rowena stared at him for about thirty seconds and then burst out laughing. Loki jumped, startled at her sudden outburst.

"You seriously threw my clock out the window?" she gasped, clearly amused.

"Well, yes. It was being most unruly and would not stop." He replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, wow," she chucked, moving past him, "you're hilarious."

He did not quite understand her humor, but found the corners of his mouth turning up at her laughter. He followed her as she made her way into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of water off the counter and began to drink.

"Who were you running from? Is there a threat outside?" he asked.

"No, I was just running." She answered, shrugging. Loki gave her a confused look.

"Oh! Right, uh, I was exercising. You know, it's like practicing. For…battle?" she tried to explain to him.

"Ah, I see." Strange, he thought to himself.

"There's a lot of things you don't understand about earth, whether you want to admit it or not," she said, turning to the refrigerator and looking inside, "Omelet?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Omelet, it's...uh…eggs mixed with other things and cooked together. It's good. Do you want one?"

Loki shrugged, "I suppose. I have never had this, nor have I ever heard of it."

Rowena smiled, "Well it's good, I promise."

He watched as she grabbed a mixing bowl and began combining ingredients. Her hands moved fast and she worked without stopping, as if she could have done it in her sleep. He looked at her focused face; her eyes were completely concentrated and her fingers moved deftly.

"What are you?" Loki asked, looking at her. Rowena stopped; Loki could see the muscles in her shoulders tense up.

"I'm Rowena." She replied, her eyes still focused on making the omelet.

"That's not all you are."

She was silent. She stopped working and placed the bowl calmly on the counter. Her eyes downcast, she began walking out of the kitchen. Loki moved quickly, grabbing her arm. Her head whipped around and she glared at him, her eyes glowing strangely. They were still green, but it was almost as if they were pulsing energy.

"Let me go." She said through white, gritted teeth.

"Tell me." He replied, his voice rough.

"If I knew, I would." She snapped, breaking out of his grip.

"Explain your words."

"I don't know, okay? I've been called a host of things: mutt, freak, crossbreed, mutant, I don't know what I am! I just know that I'm fucking alone, okay?" her voice rising in anger. The air was tense and hot. She turned her back to him once more and stormed out of her house, slamming the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki was unsure of what move to make next. He couldn't lose his ally so easily and quickly, but he would not plead with her. He was already furious with himself for acting so…unlike himself with her. Rowena, however, did not seem to be affected by him when he threatened or reacted violently. Perhaps patience would be better in this situation, he thought. The matter would have to be handled delicately. Lucky for him, he had some time; SHIELD had not followed them or come for them…yet. He could afford some patience, but not as much as he felt Rowena would need to completely commit to his plans. He moved across the living room and to the front door after her.

He looked out and saw that she was already at the end of the street and that she appeared to be terribly angry from the way she carried herself.

"Well she has to come back sometime. This is her home, after all." Loki muttered to himself. He closed the door behind him before transforming his mortal clothes back into his normal Asgardian garb. He paced the room, waiting for her to return; she didn't. He walked over and sat at the kitchen counter, staring at the bowl of raw egg and other colorful ingredients sitting, waiting to be made. He wasn't sure exactly how to make this "omelet" but how hard could it be? After all, he was starting to feel a pang of hunger in his stomach. He took the bowl in his hand and paused, hoping for some spark of inspiration or knowledge to strike him.

He stood holding that bowl for five minutes, staring deep into the yellow liquid without moving.

Suddenly, the front door opened and Rowena entered, once again, sparkling with sweat.

"Hey." She said, looking at him, her eyes red. She had been crying. Loki did not want to cause more tension, at least for the moment. She looked vulnerable, hurt, upset, the last thing he needed was for her to unleash her power…it would be a shame to have to kill his first ally, the first mortal he actually felt an affinity with.

"I was unsure of what to do with this." He offered, holding up the bowl to show her. She gave a small laugh and wiped her eyes with her arm, sniffling.

"You have to cook it with heat, on the burner." She replied, gesturing toward a flat surface next to him that was colored differently from the rest of the counter. It had two large circular patterns on it that resembled a bulls-eye.

Loki waved a hand over one of them and a red light began to glow on the top of it, creating a small bundle of heat. Rowena walked over and grabbed a frying pan that hung from a rack attached to the ceiling. She placed it on the burner and poured the mixture from the bowl.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly. Loki looked over at her; she was looking back, her eyes looking sad.

"I understand how you feel. Alone, cast out, hated, I understand, you know." He replied.

"How could you?" she asked, turning her focus back to the frying pan.

"I am not truly Thor's brother. I was taken from Jotunheim as an infant by Odin and raised as an Asgardian. But I'm not one of them, I never was," he said, resentment burning through him, "I lived in Thor's shadow all my life. He was great and loved; I was always in the background. Our 'friends' were most loyal to Thor; they did not care for me. They thought me a liar and trouble-maker, which, I cannot deny, but they did not find amusement in my actions. They likely would have shunned me, were it not for Thor. Later, our-_Thor's_ father banished him to Earth for disobeying. Odin fell into what you humans understand as a coma, and I took over as king. After Thor returned to Asgard and betrayed me, I fell to what he thought was my death…" he paused. Rowena was watching him intently, "for what seemed like years, I moved from realm to realm, exiled from Asgard, believed to be dead. I felt terrible, abhorrent, and like a failure, no doubt. Eventually, I found the Chitauri, who promised me greatness and glory, but I was, as you know, captured by my so-called brother and the rest of his 'heroes.' And here I am, before you now, telling you my tale."

There was a long silence. Rowena looked troubled at his words.

"Loki, why haven't you killed me yet?" Rowena asked quietly, turning her eyes to the eggs cooking on the burner. She flipped them with a turner and looked back at him curiously.

"I suppose I have not had the time to grow tired of you." He mused, smirking.

She laughed, "No, but seriously."

"I think the reason I have not killed you is because I find you…remarkable. You are not like any mortals I have come in contact with; you are not threatened by me, you appear as a kindred spirit, from what I have seen of your past. At least, that is my reasoning." He replied.

"What _have_ you seen?" she asked.

"I ask the same of you."

"All I saw was some rainbow light, heard a lot of noise. Felt…a lot of things," she answered, "I swear that's all." He opened his mouth to argue, but something in her eyes told him she was being honest with him. For some reason, he felt as if he should do the same.

"What…did you see?" she asked, biting her lip nervously.

"I saw you as a child, being left somewhere. As a teenager sitting alone, and then as you are now…with a man. I heard crying, yelling, and anguish."

She took the cooked omelet off the burner and slid it onto a light blue plate, offering it to him.

"Omelet?"

"Rowena…" Loki began, sighing.

"Try it, it's good." She insisted with a tight smile plastered on her face. He took the plate from her and cut off a piece; it was good.

"I just…find it hard to talk about my past. I don't like letting people in. It always just ends badly, mostly for the other person." She said, watching him closely. He took another bite and swallowed.

"I doubt that you sharing stories of what has happened in the past will bring harm to me. In fact, I believe _hiding_ things from me would be more detrimental."

"How so?"

"Well, we are partners, are we not? You said so yourself. Would it not be wise for us to be honest with each other?" he offered.

Rowena scoffed, "Coming from a notorious liar. I've heard about you and your tricks. Expecting me to trust you, that's off the wall."

"If we don't have trust, then what do we have? I help you escape, we save each other's lives, you allow me to sleep in your home, and we have shared memories through telepathy. If that is not trust, I am not sure what is." He countered.

"How did you know I was telepathic?" she asked, her face suddenly growing alert.

"It's obvious. How else would we have been able to share recollections? But you are more than that; I've seen it." He said, watching an uneasy look cross her face.

"That was a stupid question for me to ask," she murmured, "but yes, I am more than that."

"Go on, then."

Rowena took a deep breath as Loki sat down at the counter, prepared for her story.

"I was abandoned as a baby. I know nothing of my parents or who they were. When I was very young, about three or four, I began to hear voices. Before then, life was fine; I was adopted into a nice family, I even had a big sister, Annabel," she began, her face growing soft with the fondness of her few, but good, happy memories, "then, one night, I heard Annabel talking as if she were right next to me, even though she wasn't in the room. She was talking about sneaking out to get high. I remember going into my parent's room to ask them what pot was," she chuckled, "man, they were pissed. They grounded her for a month…after that, she hated me. When she asked how I found out, I told her the truth.I remember she came at me, violently, angrily…and I slammed her into a chair simply by seeing the chair in the corner. At that moment, my life went to hell. Within two months, she had them convinced I was crazy, violent, a demon, and that was the moment that I had labeled myself as a freak. I was moved in and out of different foster homes because I couldn't control my abilities, my curse. I couldn't control my thoughts, and so I hurt the people around me whenever I wasn't happy. It was almost always an accident, but it never looked like one. I was always the bad kid; when people keep telling you that you're one thing, eventually, it becomes true. So life was one shitty home at a time, more shitty friends that ended up hating me, and every day, I grew angrier. I learned to control my abilities, but there were some things I didn't understand about them, things that I still don't. The two that have remained consistent were telepathy and psychokinesis, but, some days, I can do other things. I remember, one day, at school, I lit a test on fire because I was angry that I had failed. Another day, one of my foster mothers had me out in her garden, weeding, and I made it plant wither simply by touching it. I'm nothing but destruction."

Her eyes clouded with tears, but she held them back and continued.

"One day, I was feeling particularly awful. I tried to kill myself. I couldn't. I tried to use a knife to slit my wrists," she closed her eyes, as if remembering back to that day in her mind, "it couldn't even pierce my skin. My body and mind do things that I don't understand. They _make_ me survive, even when I don't want to." At this point, tears were falling from her emerald eyes and she wasn't even attempting to hold them back. She buried her face in her hands, putting her forehead on the counter, looking small and helpless. Loki stood up and moved closer to her. For some reason, he wanted her to feel better, to stop crying, and to stop being so exposed.

With a bit of hesitation, he slowly lifted his hand and placed it on her shoulder comfortingly. Her back seemed to relax from its previous stressed state. She craned her neck to look up at him, her eyes red and wet. The vulnerability in her eyes was overwhelming and Loki felt his stomach turn just seeing her this way; as if he were intruding upon something private. She straightened up, letting his hand fall to the small of her back. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of emotion, "Sorry about that. I never really, talk about stuff like this with anybody." She sniffed, her voice shaky.

"You don't have to explain all of it now. There will be time for that. I know your past is…colorful and unhappy for you to speak of. I am not particularly fond of my past either. I cannot fix for you what has happened to you, but your life is different now, and it will be different from now on." He said, unsure of where all of these words were coming from. They seemed to be pouring out of his mouth without his consent; however, he _did_ mean them. Rowena looked at him strangely.

"And why is that?" she asked.

"Because you-"

A knock at the door interrupted him.


	6. Chapter 6

Rowena and Loki's heads whipped to the door. They stood still and hardly dared to breathe.

"Maybe if we ignore it, it'll stop," She whispered. The knocking resumed, harder and louder, "Shit."

She took a deep breath and walked towards the door. She turned back to Loki, "Hide?" He nodded and instantly vanished.

"I _have_ to try that sometime." She muttered to herself, her hand turning the doorknob slowly. Loki watched as the door opened, revealing the man from Rowena's memory, the one she had appeared happy with. He was tall, a little over six feet, and had choppy chestnut-brown hair. He had a handsome face and dark brown eyes; their hue seemed to match his hair almost identically. Loki, invisible to both the stranger and Rowena, moved closer to them, eying the man suspiciously.

"Wade." She said with an edge to her voice.

"Well, it _is_ true, look who's back." He replied, putting his hands on her shoulders. Rowena swung her arms up through his, knocking them off of her.

"Whew, someone is touchy." Wade said, putting his hands up innocently.

"Yeah, I _am _a bit touchy," she snarled, "Why are you here?"

"Well, I was driving by your place, as I normally do," he winked at her and strode past her into the house, "and I saw that your curtains were drawn, and that there was a bike outside. Nice wheels, by the way. SO, I assumed you were back. Which," he gestured to her, "you are."

"Yeah, no thanks to you."

"Hey, I didn't _ask _the Avengers to show up."

"You work for SHIELD, how could they NOT show up?" she fumed.

"I don't work for SHIELD anymore; I'm doing my own thing." He answered, shrugging. Rowena crossed her arms over her chest, silently staring at him, anger leaking from her.

"You're really going to hold a grudge about this?" Wade added, laughing.

Rowena glared at him; if looks could kill.

"You lied to me. You hit me. You got me fucking arrested," she said flatly, "So yeah, I'm going to hold a grudge."  
"I didn't hit you-" he began, moving towards her, the smile wiped off his face.

"Bullshit." She spat, "And you'd do it again."

"You fucking listen-"

"ENOUGH." Loki couldn't take it anymore. It was like watching dogs bark at each other, about to rip each other's throats out. He materialized next to them, making Wade jump back in shock.

"Holy shit, man!" he cried out.

Rowena backed away from Wade and toward Loki, her face tense and eyes wide.

"You stop talking to me for three weeks and you already find a replacement? Jesus, you waste no time." He said, his voice toxic.

"You don't know what you're talking about-"

"Hey, I know exactly who you are," Wade pointed at Loki, his eyes narrow, "You're Loki. You're plastered all over SHIELD and the rest of the covert world's radar. Thor's brother."

"I'm afraid I've no idea who _you_ are." Loki replied with a sneer.

"He's-" Rowena began, but Wade cut her off.

"Wade Wilson," he answered, extending his hand with a smug look on his face, "Ex-love of Miss Rowena and mercenary extraordinaire." Loki looked at Rowena, who was staring daggers at Wade.

"Ah, well, mercenary work is _most_ honorable." Loki said sarcastically. Wade scoffed.

"So's getting your ass beat by a bunch of super-humans in spandex," he eyed Loki head to toe, "although I can't say you're much better."

"You have a quick tongue, I can respect that. One thing I cannot tolerate, however, is the way you're acting toward your 'ex-love'," he looked over at Rowena who looked surprised at his words, "I think it's best if you leave."

Wade's russet eyes shifted from Loki to Rowena.

"Well, I gotta hand it to you; you have a demi-god whipped. _That's_ impressive shit."

"Get the hell out of here, Wade," she snapped, "Nobody wants you here. Not now, not ever."

"Fine," he growled, his eyes turning to slits as he turned to Loki, "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

"I look forward to it." Loki replied scathingly, standing tall.

"Be careful with this one, she's a handful." He said, glowering at Rowena before turning on his heel and banging the door behind him.

It seemed as if they had stood there for hours without moving, Loki looking at Rowena, while her eyes remained glued to the floor.

"Rowena…"

"I feel like all I do is apologize to you," she said, still not looking at him, "first it was my crazy, psycho-bitch freak-out, and now it's my crazy, psycho-ex-boyfriend. It's not even noon, this is ridiculous. See what you got yourself into?"

Loki laughed, "I've seen far worse, believe me. Look at me," she did, slowly, "Wade is…troubled. Purely because he has romantic feelings for you still and you…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "do not?"

She shook her head, "Wade was never a good match for me. He refused to take anything seriously, and when he did, he took it too far," she crossed her arms and shivered, "I never let anybody close enough to hurt me, and the one time I do, I get burned."

He wanted to know more. "You regret your time with him?" he asked.

"I regret choices I made. I don't have regrets about what we were, or the time we spent together. I just wish I handled myself differently." She answered.

"How do you mean?"

"Long story short, love makes you vulnerable, weak, a target. We love to cause pain and feel pain. Feeling nothing is easier and less of a hazard than feeling everything." She said quietly, "he hurt me in more ways than one."

"You don't have to worry about that any longer."

"And why is that?"

"I am not in the business of harming my allies. I have no reason to bring you any pain."

"Not yet." Rowena replied, a teasing look on her face. He laughed.

"No, not yet, but I think you shouldn't have to fear."

"Why should I trust you? You're famous for manipulation and lies."

"You shouldn't trust me now. But perhaps you will, in time." He smirked, turning away from her.

"Hey," she said, reaching out and touching his arm, a sincere look in her eyes, "thanks for that, for sticking up for me back there. You didn't have to do that."

"I know. He, however, was begging for it. He is arrogant. He should learn his place. And he should not have disrespected you like that."

"Well, anyway, thank you." She said, a small smile on her face. Loki felt the corner of his lips turning up as well. He began to walk toward the staircase to his room, to begin planning for the re-claiming of his scepter. As he landed on the first step, he turned back and saw she was still looking at him.

"Before Wade came in, you were going to say something," she offered, "what was it?"

Loki hesitated, unsure if he should say what he had intended on saying. With what had just happened, it would either come as a comfort or a warning sign to her. He would take his chances.

"I was going to tell you that you are no longer alone."

She had not expected that answer; but, for some reason, it brought a flood of warmth to her body, from bottom to top. The heat rose to her cheeks.

"Well," she began, "neither are you."

He gave a nod and little smile before turning and continuing up the staircase. Rowena began walking to the kitchen before she realized that she was floating, her heart beating fast. _Well, that's new_, she thought to herself, and she couldn't help but thinking that her new partner was the reason for it.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been three days since their escape and Loki was growing impatient. His mind was flooded with frustrating questions; the most troubling, however, was the location of his scepter and its actual usefulness once attained.

The scepter was given to him by the Chitauri and its great power was fueled by the Tesseract, which, unfortunately, was no longer on Earth, but on Asgard. Deep down, he knew that whatever power was left in the scepter was limited and most likely running out, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He knew the scepter was no doubt in SHIELD's possession; he was too, for a short while, but it was clear that Fury and the rest of SHIELD would not keep the scepter so close to him. That, he knew, was certain. Now finding it was the issue.

Earth was of truly no importance to him any longer. He had only brought the Chitauri and his wrath upon the planet in order to get back to Asgard _without_ Thor. Getting rid of his brother was the original scheme; an alleged war and alliance with an alien race was only a means to an end. The Avengers had delayed this plan; they hadn't thwarted it as they so believed. He _would_ find a way back, no matter what the price.

The other maddening matter on his mind was Rowena. She clearly had a lot of her own issues to work out, issues that could possibly hinder and delay Loki's search for the scepter and his ticket back to Asgard. She was valuable, no doubt, but her own disturbed mind impacted her use to him. She was resilient, but stubborn; she was independent, but could turn to jelly in seconds. Her personality was unbalanced and impulsive. She was a hazard.

That was something he could use for the time being. Once he got the scepter back, he knew what his two most important actions would be: first, to create a reaction within the Tesseract in order to bring Thor back to Earth. Second, he would use it to control Rowena. She had abilities that no other mortal thus far had been able to match. Directing her would mean no more spontaneity or disobedience. She would be of use to him then. Still, he felt odd at the thought of removing her seemingly trademark sarcasm and free spirit. He shook off the thought; _any horse could be broken, _he mused to himself.

An idea suddenly formed in his mind and a mischievous smile on his knew exactly what to do.

He exited his room and made his way down the staircase. It was late afternoon and the sky was turning a brilliant, burnt orange as the sun began to fall asleep. Rowena was standing with a wide stance on the lower balcony. Her wavy hair was tied back loosely in a ponytail, save for a few strands that had escaped and cascaded down the sides of her face. As Loki approached her, he could see her eyes were closed, deep in focus, and she moved her hands slowly and precisely as a paintbrush levitated before her, carefully drawing strokes upon a canvas.

On the canvas were the beginnings of a painting: a black background had been painted and what appeared to be a dark green stem with blood red thorns was currently being formed upon it. Loki watched as the color on the end of the brush changed colors from red to a deep purple. The brush swirled delicately around the canvas, intricately tracing the outline of rose petals.

Loki wondered how strong her concentration was.

"Are you painting that from memory?" he asked, expecting to startle her. Rowena did not flinch; in fact, she showed no immediate recognition of his voice.

"No, I had a dream about it last night. I saw it, and wanted to remember." She replied, her voice even. Her wrists flexed and twisted, giving the brush a soft spinning motion, creating a textured effect on the rose petals.

"Impressive. You are practiced in your ability." He said, watching the brush move compliantly with her fingers.

"_One_ of them, at least, thanks. I've had the most time to spend with this one," she said, "it used to be the most difficult for me to control because it seemed to correlate directly with my emotions. Now, I find it the easiest."

"And what do you find the most difficult?"

"The ones I'm never expecting. The ones that come out of nowhere and that are the most damaging." She answered, opening her eyes to look at him. She looked back at the painting.

"Not my best." She added, studying it. Loki shifted his gaze from her to the picture; it was detailed and, although only a few colors were used, a spectrum of shades and hues glowed on the canvas, appearing to emit a faint light.

"I've seen worse." he teased. In truth, however, the painting was beautiful. Rowena laughed lightly.

"I don't claim to be an artist; it's more therapy than anything." She replied, sighing.

_An opening_, he thought to himself.

"What troubles you?" he asked, already hearing her answer.

"Wade showing up yesterday, He claims that he left SHIELD, but the thing is, they don't just _let_ you leave. I think he's still working for them and he came yesterday to see if you were here, or to see if I was still alive if you were." She explained, her thin brows furrowed.

"Tell me about your relationship." He urged, hoping to discover something useful. He felt a sense of anticipation rising in his gut when she opened her pale lips to speak.

"Wade was…" she paused to find the correct words to describe him, "reckless, intense, irresponsible, and maybe a bit crude, but he made me happy, for the most part. I think it was mostly because he understood what I was going through; he's…different. Like me. Not _like_ me, but he's not a normal human. He was a test subject for a replica of the serum used on Captain America, called the Weapon X project. He wasn't born with the abilities, like me, but he didn't turn me away like other people did. He accepted me; it was new to be able to share things with someone who didn't call you a freak."

"And what happened?" he pried.

"He got drunk one night while he was out. I was…not with him. He couldn't handle himself, managed to find his way into another girl's pants. When I confronted him about it, it got physical," her mouth grew tight and tense, "I don't take that shit. I split. A few days later, he came after me, and he wasn't happy. When he got violent, so did I. Unfortunately, it was very public."

"Public enough to get you arrested, I suppose?"

"Pushing-him-off-a-six-story-building-public. Because he had the Weapon X in him, I knew he'd be fine, I just wanted to show him that I wasn't going to take his bullshit. Unfortunately, I also showed about a hundred other people very publicly in L.A. Since he worked for SHIELD, they got pissed. I ran to the shelter of some friends and a few of your favorite people came after me. By that, I mean the Avengers. Only I got arrested, of course, since my so-called friends decided to play pussy and turn me in." she explained, "So as you can see, I find it hard and hazardous to trust people."

"I see." Loki said. So, that was what happened. Interesting, he thought, this was certainly what he was looking for.

"Why are you so interested, anyway?" Rowena asked suspiciously, her green eyes narrowing.

"You're a curious girl. Your encounter yesterday with your lover-"

"_Ex-_lover." She interrupted loudly.

"Right. Well, I found it…_interesting." _He replied, treading carefully.

"Huh." She said, still looking apprehensive, "Well, I think I'm going to go wash up a bit."

Loki nodded at her and watched her walk back inside with a wary stride. He glanced back at the painting still sitting on the balcony.

Every rose had its thorns.


	8. Chapter 8

Rowena lay in bed, her mind wandering into all sorts of places. The past week had been eventful, to say the least. She was infuriated by Wade showing up, anxious of Loki's prying questions, and tired of living a life that gave her no emotional rest. The only place she felt truly at peace was in her time spent sleeping. It was odd; she thought that she would be more inclined to have terrible, anxiety-provoking nightmares rather than the pleasantries that her dreaming provided her with. She quite often dreamed of flying through the bright blue sky, soaring through the transparent clouds that drew shadows upon the land below.

Sometimes, she saw her old foster families and re-experienced the moments that brought happiness into her life, although they were few. She saw Annabel and herself sitting on Annabel's bed. Her older sister was teaching her how to braid her hair.

_"So the bunny jumps over the branch in the middle?" She asked, confused at the concept of braids._

_"Yeah, and then the other bunny crawls under the middle branch." Annabel explained with a chuckle._

_"I don't think I'm doing it right." Little Rowena replied sadly, her hair in knots._

_"Here, I'll do it for you," Annabel said, taking Rowena's hands, "Then you can try on me."_

She wished life was still as simple as bunnies jumping over and crawling under branches. Now, she felt like a rabbit trapped by a forest of brambles with toxic thorns threatening life, love, and sanity. She flipped onto her side and settled under her feathery blanket. She reached over, stretching to turn off the lamp and kiss the day goodbye.

As soon as she shut her eyes, she felt as if she were being thrust forward, as if she were plummeting from the mouth of an angry wave. Images and sounds flooded her mind, just like when she saw the innards of Loki's mind; except this time, this looked and felt frightening. It seemed to move in slow motion, causing her stomach to twist and turn. She felt like she was being torn apart.

Rowena jolted up in her bed, panting and sweating. He had to see this.

"LOKI!" She yelled, throwing the covers off of her and moving out of bed, "Loki, wh-"

He appeared out of nowhere in seconds, at the frame of her door, his expression difficult to read. His face was stoic, but Rowena saw apprehension in his crystalline eyes.

"What's wrong," he asked, "you look terrible."

Rowena could barely focus or catch her breath, let alone describe to him what she had seen.

"I-I," she stuttered, running a hand through her hair, "had a nightmare."

"A nightmare." He repeated, his voice flat. He looked at her as if she was a foolish child, and it made Rowena's shoulders shake.

"I don't get nightmares. Ever. The only time I did was when…" she drifted, her voice fading as she remembered.

"When?"

"When I had a nightmare that I….that I nearly killed my best friend. I thought nothing of it until it came true." She replied quietly.

She thought back to the moment. She was fourteen years old; she and Claire were in the playground, climbing the tree house.

_"Five bucks says I can climb higher." Claire had said, taunting her with a flip of her light blond hair._

_"You're on." Rowena replied, determined to best her. Claire always got what she wanted, but she wouldn't get this. Rowena was the better athlete by far. I can do this, I can do this, she kept repeating in her head as she crawled up the tree with simian-like movements. When they were about fifteen feet up, Claire grabbed Rowena's ankle, one hand around her leg, the other clinging to the branch parallel to her. At that moment, Rowena remembered the dream she had a week before; Claire slipped from the branch and crashed to the grass below, not moving, her eyes closed. She lurched around to warn Claire, to tell her to hang on when Claire's hand slid from the branch, her only grip on Rowena's leg. _

_Claire shrieked._

_"Hang on!" Rowena cried, her eyes welling with nervous tears. It was coming true; it was all coming true. It happened so fast. As Rowena began to reach down to grab Claire's hand, she nearly lost her grip with her other hand. She gasped and jerked her free hand up to grab a hold of the branch above. The jerky movement was too much for Claire to handle and her fingers slipped from Rowena's ankle. She screamed as she plummeted to the ground below, seemingly in slow motion._

_The ambulance arrived within five minutes, but the damage was done. As Claire was being pulled away in a stretcher, she glared at Rowena as she tried to run alongside the EMT's. _

_"Claire, I'm so sorry!" she yelped, tears streaming down her face._

_"You were always jealous of me. Stupid freak." Claire replied with a biting voice. Rowena stopped in her tracks and watched Claire being loaded into the ambulance. She stood completely still, silent, and crying as she watched the ambulance drive away, her only friend despising her guts. She'd be labeled as weird, psychotic, a loser, freakish, violent…whatever Claire said about her would be true in the eyes of her peers._

_Well, she thought to herself, might as well play the part. She walked home, her head low. _

"Was it on purpose?" Loki asked. Rowena snapped out of her reverie.

"Of course not, it was an accident," she replied, dumbfounded.

"Was it though?"

"Of course," she paused, "but the point is: _it came true. _Nothing like that has happened until tonight. And I'm afraid that I can't exactly avoid this one."

"Well, then tell me what you saw." He said, his voice getting exasperated. Rowena bit her lip.

"I-I can't," she stuttered, "I don't know how to explain it."

Loki approached her, his hand outstretched.

"Then show me." He said, offering his palm. She nodded.

"I'll try." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, placing her hand on top of his. She strained her mind, willing the dream to pass through her brain and into his. She thought about it so hard that it hurt. She opened her eyes about a minute later, only to see him simply staring at her with pursed pale lips.

"Anything?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Nothing. Perhaps it is not direct enough." He raised his hand and, surprisingly gently considering his apparent annoyance with her, placed it on her forehead. They both closed their eyes and tried again. Another couple of minutes passed, silence and tension enveloping the room as they both strained their psyches to establish a psychic connection.

Rowena let out a long, irritated sigh, "This isn't working."

Loki racked his brain. If she couldn't transfer it and he couldn't draw it out, how was he going to see what she saw? The anxiety it caused her was an obvious sign that it was something important.

"Wait," Rowena said suddenly, staring ahead with a focused gaze, "I think I have an idea." He looked at her.

"What?"

She stood up slowly, looking tense and rigid as her eyes moved slowly to look into his.

"Well, you said it had to be direct." She answered, walking close to him.

"And?"

"Don't freak out and don't kill me," she began, nodding slowly at him, looking for approval, "Just go with it."

Loki gave her a puzzled look, "I don't underst-" he started to say before he was interrupted by Rowena.

She swiftly and almost aggressively put her hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him forward, her lips advancing on his. It was the last thing he had expected and yet, it seemed as though he knew exactly how to respond as their lips seemed to move together in unison. This was something unfamiliar to Loki, but it also seemed strangely natural. There was a peculiar feeling bubbling up inside him, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Then, suddenly, a jolt forward.

Pictures and sounds surrounded him; he was being swallowed by a flurry of sights and sensations. It was working. He kissed her harder and the pictures became sharper and more defined. He saw his brother leaping toward something, a look of horror, anger, and anguish all etched upon his face. He saw Rowena, looking battered and vicious, attacking SHIELD guards, and a familiar scepter in her hand as she did so…

Then he saw what he believed to have frightened her. She and Loki were standing on the roof of a tall building, facing one another, panting, and both looking weary and beaten as they stared at one another. Loki had the scepter in his hand and Rowena held an unfamiliar weapon that he had never seen before. Abruptly, they lunged at one another. The scene flashed to another: Rowena was on the ground, face down, surrounded by blood and still as a stone. He heard a voice, his voice, "I'm sorry," before he flashed back to reality and the realization that he was still standing with Rowena's arms hung around his neck, their tongues twisting together. He slowly pulled back, opening his eyes to look at her. She released his neck from her arms and opened her eyes as well, emerald flashing as her eyelids fluttered like petals on a blooming flower. For a moment, they stood, silent, both aware that the transference had been successful.

"Y-you saw it?" Rowena asked, her voice hoarse.

"I did." Loki replied quietly.

"And?" she urged, almost afraid to hear his answer.

But he did not answer her with words. He, instead, took her face in his hands and with an almost hungry and urgent look in his eyes, began to kiss her again._  
_


	9. Chapter 9

Rowena awoke the next morning to the sound and smell of fresh rain. She opened her eyes slowly and became aware of her surroundings. She was in her room, in her bed, which was normal. What was not normal, however, was the fact that she was not alone. Her head rested in the crevice created by Loki's shoulder and pectoral and his arm was around her shoulders in an almost protective manner. His eyes were shut and his chest rose and fell steadily. She wanted to get up and get moving, so was her active nature, but she didn't want to wake him. She knew that if she did, they would have to talk about what she saw in her nightmare last night and, even more intimidating, about their romantic interaction.

It was only kissing; deep, involved, invigorating, physical, and passionate kissing. It wasn't as if she had never done it before, but never had her experiences reached that level of intensity. She felt such a spark inside of her, so powerful that it frightened her. After he had clearly seen the contents of her dream, they had pulled away, their eyes meeting and holding a strong gaze. She hadn't expected him to react in the way that he did, a voracious flicker in his irises, his hands swiftly and smoothly moving to the back of her neck and the small of her back as he pulled her back into him. Although they were so close it was as if they had been glued together, it did not seem close enough for either of them.

The more she thought of it, the faster her heart began beating.

_No, _she thought to herself,_ I can't do this. I can't do this again. I can't let somebody else in._

She shifted her weight as carefully as possible so that she could look at him without waking him up. His black hair was messily tousled, her doing, and the collar of his shirt was messy and undone. His face was expressionless, his pale lips barely open, his eyebrows straight and thin. He looked peaceful, as most do when they sleep.

She felt odd watching him as he slept, but she didn't care. He was interesting. She was used to dealing with dimwits who did as they were told or arrogant geniuses who were too smart and too confident for their own good. It seemed those were the two kinds of people in this world, no mediums. She was different though and so was he; even if he wasn't of this world. She hadn't yet gotten a chance to look at him, _really look_ at him until this moment when he was at his most vulnerable. His features were so defined, they seemed sharp, and yet his face was not severe. He had high cheekbones and his skin was like handsome porcelain. It felt cold, but it was soft and delicate. He made his skin to be thick, but it was not always so. Biting her lip, she moved slowly closer to him, looking closely as if being inches away would uncover a mystery within him.

Loki stirred next to her. His breathing turned uneven as he inhaled sharply and shook his head, stifling a yawn. His eyebrows furrowed as he opened his eyes, blinking several times as if in a daze. Rowena abruptly moved away from him, clumsily pretending to just be waking up also. She gave a huge yawn and rubbed her eyes with one hand while leaning back on her other elbow.

"Oh," she looked at him pleasantly, "good morning." Loki looked around, as if he had forgotten where he was. His eyes landed on her and he looked surprised.

"Hello, I," his attention shifted below him, to her bed, then to her, "wasn't aware that I fell asleep."

"Yeah, I mean, we both did," she replied, "it was late." There was a moment of silence, in which neither of them knew what to say.

"So, I guess they have kissing on Asgard, huh?" she said awkwardly, feeling stupid as soon as the words left her lips. She felt heat rising to her cheeks as Loki snickered.

"Yes, we have kissing on Asgard. Kissing, it seems, is an act that seems to span realms. It is an act of passion, sincerity, and, well, love," He cleared his throat, "But it has been some time since I've had any practice in it."

"I kind of wish I could say the same." Rowena replied. Loki looked at her curiously.

"I thought you said that you didn't regret your time with Wade."

"No, I mean, I don't, I guess. I think I just regret how easily I let him in," she looked uncomfortable, as if a chill had swept through the room, "how easily I trusted him."

"Like me?" Loki asked, raising his thin eyebrows. There was a pause. Rowena looked at him with sad eyes.

"You are nothing like him."

"How do you know?"

Rowena sighed, "Because you have a purpose and you're driven. It may be dark, but it keeps you going. You have suffered and yet it only makes you stronger. Wade didn't have a purpose, he hasn't truly known suffering. He was a wild dog that broke his chain and ran around, chasing his tail. I may not know you well enough to say that I truly _know _you, but that dog? That's not you. You're the one holing the chains of everyone, and you made some of them just easy enough to break for a reason. You're more of the puppet-master type." She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly.

"An impressive retort." Loki replied, amused and a bit fascinated by her words. Rowena gaze an exaggerated shrug and smirked.

"What can I say? I'm an impressive girl." She said with a laugh.

"You are indeed." He said, which made her whole body perk up. The smirk was wiped off her face and replaced with upturned eyebrows and a small, hopeful smile.

"You're just saying that to butter me up." She crinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out.

"Or," he came close to her face, the tip of his nose nearly touching hers, "I am saying it because I mean it."

Rowena stopped, as if she had lost her breath; being so close to him made her-

"Do I make you nervous?" he asked quietly, his breath hot on her face.

"I-I," she stuttered. _Don't fold so easily, _she thought to herself, "Stop trying to manipulate me, get out of my head." It was true, he did make her nervous, but not in a displeasing way.

"Your mind is practically an open book. The more emotion you feel, the easier you are to read, the easier it is to penetrate." He replied, his voice low. She gulped. If this was true, then she was a billboard lit up on the side of the road and he was practically painting on the words she advertised.

"You should practice." He added, his voice turning to a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up.

"You're going to drive me insane." She replied, glaring at him, but feeling herself smile as she did so.

"That's the idea."


End file.
